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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28908711">Home for the Holidays</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oyhumbug/pseuds/oyhumbug'>oyhumbug</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Grimm (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Christmas, Detectives, Drama, Engagement, F/M, Family History, Fluff, Grimms - Freeform, Holidays, Kehrseite, Law School, Meeting the Family, Portland, Potions, Pre-Series, Romance, Secrets, Wards, Wesen, Zauberbiest, alternative history, alternative setting: Oakland, hexenbiests, proposing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:14:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,177</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28908711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oyhumbug/pseuds/oyhumbug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Adalind Schade hasn't been home to see her mother in seven years. When she left Portland behind, she also left the life she lived there, including her hexenbiest ways, behind, too. And that was all before she met Nick Burkhardt, a Kehrseite, the man she loves, and her boyfriend who she thinks is about to propose to her... IF she introduces him to her Mom over Christmas dinner. Marrying Nick might be the only thing in the world Adalind wants more than keeping him away from her family.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adalind Schade &amp; Catherine Schade - Relationship, Adalind Schade &amp; Marie Kessler, Adalind Schade &amp; Sean Renard, Catherine Schade/Sean Renard, Nick Burkhardt &amp; Catherine Schade, Nick Burkhardt &amp; Marie Kessler, Nick Burkhardt &amp; Sean Renard, Nick Burkhardt/Adalind Schade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Home for the Holidays</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi, Everyone! I know that we're almost a month removed from the holidays, and I know that it's been forever and a moment since I posted for Nadalind, but I hope no one will argue with receiving a new one shot... even if it isn't a part of the Mutually Assured series. I PROMISE there will be more to come for that version of Nick, Adalind, and Monroe soon. In the meantime, have a helping of sweet, angsty fluff to tide you over. (And, yes, when I say one shot, I mean this is a one shot. There are no plans to continue this little story in the future.) Enjoy!</p>
<p>~Charlynn~</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Home for the Holidays<br/></b>
  <b>A Nadalind Holiday One Shot</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should take me home with you for the holidays.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>With distraction, Adalind noncommittally hummed a response, “hmm,” blindly reaching up in the direction from which Nick’s voice had emanated in an attempt to cup and caress his jaw. Instead, she found his smiling mouth. As a </span>
  <em>
    <span>reward </span>
  </em>
  <span>for her </span>
  <em>
    <span>efforts</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he blew a raspberry against her skin. “Nick!,” she yelled while he laughed at her. Still unwilling to take her gaze off of her work, Adalind smeared the mess that was on her fingers off on whatever surface was closest. It ended up being Nick’s t-shirt clad chest. If she wasn’t so completely engulfed by law school, she might have voiced her displeasure that he was wearing clothes to bed. Sure, she, too, was clad in pajamas, but Nick ran hotter than she did, and she just… well, she studied better when he was shirtless, damn it. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“So, is that a yes?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He was starting to pierce through the veil of her concentration. “Is what?” Still, though, her focus remained on the thick tomes, the notepads, and the open laptop spread out before her. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“You, me,” he started slowly. And, yes, Adalind was liking the sound of whatever it was Nick was proposing. Anything that involved the two of them together was an excellent idea in her book. But then he had to go and say, “Christmas in Portland, introducing me to your mom,” and not only did her positive reaction disintegrate, but any and all of her attention… not to mention her gaze, which had previously been locked on her latest article for the law journal, snapped towards her boyfriend like a rubberband, the kickback stealing her breath. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“What did you just… You can’t be serious, Nick?!”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I’m as serious as you studying for the bar exam. Or writing a brief. Or prepping for that court competition of yours.” Smirking, he teased her, “I’m still mad that I can’t come and watch, cheer you on. I would have you know that I would make an excellent hype guy.” It was a familiar refrain - Nick encouraging her but with jokes, not the passive-aggressive digs she had been subjected to for the first eighteen years of her life. “I’m as serious about meeting your mom as you are about avoiding her.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“My family isn’t like yours,” Adalind tried to put him off.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“What, you mean dead,” he countered. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Because Nick had lost his parents at such a young age, he was able to make that comment sound blase and not pitiable. Adalind knew that he wasn’t jockeying for sympathy; he was just reminding her that, no matter what her mother’s faults, at least she still had a mom. The only problem was that, despite dating for three years, she had yet to tell him exactly what those faults were… or really anything about her past. As far as Adalind was concerned, her life started when a fresh faced patrol cop with a chin dimple pulled her over for speeding. Everything had changed that afternoon… including the trajectory of her future, and she had never looked back. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Closing the books spread out in front of her, Adalind piled them up and then dropped them down to the carpeted floor. They landed with a muted thud, primarily staying in the stack how she had arranged them. Then, she closed her computer and more delicately placed it on top of the heavy texts. Once her lap was as unencumbered of its work as her mind now was, she twisted in bed so that she could face Nick. “For as little of a relationship as we have, my mom might as well be dead.” Then there was also the fact that Catherine Schade would put a death curse on her if she ever found out just how far Adalind had strayed from the plans the two women had set for her at eighteen when she left Portland for Palo Alto, but that was an example of all those pesky, </span>
  <em>
    <span>minor</span>
  </em>
  <span> things Adalind refused to tell her boyfriend. “Even when I still lived with her, it wasn’t like with you and your Aunt Marie.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Although Adalind had yet to meet Marie Kessler, Nick spoke to his Aunt every week on the phone, and she felt like she knew the retired librarian simply through all of his stories. Marie, a wandering spirit, had somehow managed to stay in one place long enough - three years - for Nick to attend and graduate college with a degree in criminal justice on a tuition waiver. Their time in Seattle while Nick went to Washington State University was the longest he had lived anywhere since his parents died in a car accident and until he was hired by Oakland PD and moved to California. Now, nearly five years later, he was one of the department’s youngest cops to ever make detective, and they lived together in a small apartment while Adalind attended law school. “I wasn’t a child; I was a future asset, a future weapon, and that’s exactly how my mother raised me. There was no warmth, no maternal guidance.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“But she’s still your blood,” he pointed out gently, apparently determined to not let it go this time. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Normally, Nick allowed Adalind to put him off whenever he brought up something she didn’t want to talk about. When they first started dating and were just getting to know each other, that had happened more often. Adalind wasn’t sure if, in loving Nick, she had changed so much that he no longer had those kinds of questions for her or if, in loving her, Nick had come to learn who she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> and no longer cared as much about who she once was. Whatever the reason, soon after they moved in together - both of them tired of the commute back and forth between Oakland and Palo Alto and constantly feeling like they were consequently running late, his curiosity about those parts of her she didn’t want to share tapered off, practically disappeared.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Adalind huffed, acknowledging Nick’s remark with a muttered, “more than you could ever possibly understand.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“So, let me meet her,” he cajoled. She still must have looked skeptical - hell, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>outright unconvinced, because suddenly Nick pulled out all of the stops, reaching over, picking Adalind up by the waist - he knew how much she </span>
  <em>
    <span>appreciated </span>
  </em>
  <span>it when he did things like that, things that reminded her of how strong he was… even if only just a human, and then settling her down so that she was straddling his legs. Nick’s hands came to rest at her hips, his blunt but very nimble fingers alternating between playing with the hem of her sweatshirt and dipping beneath the waistband of her shorts. Adalind bit her bottom lip in response, knowing exactly where his seemingly absentminded attentions would lead them.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Dropping her own hands to the edge of his soft, cotton tee, Adalind pulled it upwards to lift it off of him. Nick obliged, raising his arms. But even after she had him down to just the boxer shorts he wore underneath the blankets, Nick made no further move to undress her. Finally glancing up, Adalind found her eyes ensnared by Nick’s dark, earnest, determined gaze. “Adalind, you should </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>take me home with you for the holidays.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Nick arched his eyebrows for emphasis, sending her a pointed, meaningful stare.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Was he planning on…? Was he going to…?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“We’re not staying with her,” Adalind started listing off conditions. “In fact, we don’t stay in Portland at all. We get in. We get out. If the two of us are going away together for the holidays, then I want to take you someplace a little more private” - and less fraught with danger - “than my mother’s. Think… luxury cabin in the woods with multiple fireplaces and an outdoor hot tub.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Anything else?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Yes,” she replied quickly. But once she had Nick’s full and complete attention, Adalind gentled her tone, slowing her words so he could hear just how sincere she was being when she said, “if we’re going to Portland for what I think we’re going to Portland for, I need you to know that it’s entirely unnecessary, Nick. My mother doesn’t deserve - hell, she wouldn’t even want that kind of consideration from you.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“What if I said that we’re not going for her but for us - that this is something I want and that I think </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>deserve?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Then she would think him a romantic fool. But he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>romantic fool, and Nick’s streak of traditionalism wasn’t a new part of his personality. Adalind was already well versed with it, and it was just one of the things about her boyfriend that she found herself in love with. It shocked no one more than it did Adalind herself. As much as she feared introducing Nick to Portland and everything that came with it… not the least of which was her mother, she was now even more afraid of </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>taking him home with her for the holidays. If she was right and Nick was about to propose, Adalind knew that she wanted nothing more than to marry him. This man. This Kehrseite. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>But she was quickly starting to realize that it had been a mistake to shield him from the truth of her past, from her very existence… just as it had been a mistake to think that she could ever fully and truly escape it. She might have allowed that world to fade for her as soon as she stepped foot onto the Stanford campus as a freshman, and she might have turned her back on it entirely after she met Nick, but just because Adalind was no longer a part of the Wesen world that did not mean that the Wesen world was no longer a part of her. And now with the idea of marriage came thoughts of children, too, and Adalind chastised herself for being so naive. For three years, she and Nick had managed to live inside of the bubble she had created for them, but a proposal, an engagement, and an eventual marriage would burst that bubble. In order to truly move forward in her relationship with Nick, she was going to have to risk its very foundation. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Running her fingers back and forth, up and down over his bare chest, Adalind admitted, “it’s just… there are things about me that I’ve never told you about.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Same,” Nick shrugged, dismissing her admission easily. It was like, in their contentment, he had forgotten about his own former inquisitiveness about who Adalind had been before they met. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Trust me, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>not the same.” Before he could argue with her, attempt to pacify or even reassure her, or soothe her, Adalind continued, “if we’re really doing this - if we’re actually going to spend Christmas in Portland with my mother, then I need you to promise me something.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Nick was quick to agree. “Anything.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I need you to promise me that, no matter what you might see or hear, you’ll give me the chance to explain before… reacting.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Although there was humor in his voice and his body was still relaxed, Adalind could also sense Nick experiencing some tension for the first time during their conversation. “You’re not a wanted criminal… or married already, are you?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“God, Nick, no! Nothing like that.” To cement her words and to comfort them both, Adalind leaned forward to kiss him. It was just a mere taste of an embrace, a prologue to what was to come between them. Once she pulled back and was looking into his eyes once more, she added, “remember, I told you that my family isn’t like yours… and not just because we don’t like each other and are unaffectionate.” If that was the best she could do in warning Nick, what the hell was she actually going to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>when... </span>
  </em>
  <span>and not </span>
  <em>
    <span>if </span>
  </em>
  <span>like she had warned Nick… her mother did something to expose her secrets? “We’re… different.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Nick laughed, taunting her, “tell me something I don’t already know, Schade.” In retaliation, Adalind stopped her caresses of her naked skin to pinch and twist one of his nipples. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that!,” he threatened her, though his words were completely undermined by Nick wrapping his arms around Adalind’s back to make sure he gentled her impact when he flipped them over in bed.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>With Nick cradled between her thighs, Adalind draped her arms around his neck, pulling not just his mouth but his entire body down on top of her. “Do your worst… or should I say your best?, Detective Burkhardt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>XXOOXXOO</span>
</p>
<p><span>This was going to be a disaster.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>During the entire nine and half hour drive up the I-5 North... hell, since Adalind had first agreed to introduce Nick to her mother over Christmas dinner - </span><em><span>pass the potatoes, hold the potion</span></em><span>, she had tried to distract herself from her worries with work, but nothing, not even Nick holding her hand or squeezing her thigh, could take Adalind’s mind off of their rapidly impending doom. Just because classes were on break over the holidays, that did not mean that, as an L3, she had any actual downtime. Between preparing to take the bar exam and polishing up her resume, her externship, and her pro-bono hours requirement, Adalind had plenty to do while in the car but absolutely no ability to focus. Unfortunately, her anxiety only increased… if that was possible… when they pulled up outside of her mother’s house only to discover that they weren’t the only guests that afternoon.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Your mom drives a Chevy Suburban?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“No,” Adalind clipped out tersely. Her annoyance wasn’t at Nick, though. Unfastening her seat belt, she elaborated, “that monstrosity would belong to Sean Renard.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Why is that name familiar to me?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Please don’t tell me that you’ve been researching the Portland PD just </span><em><span>in case </span></em><span>I would want to move back here after I graduate?” At Nick’s guilty expression, Adalind groaned. “Nick!”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“What,” he defended, shrugging his shoulders. “I have no particular attachment to Oakland or California. I’m only there because that’s where I got a job out of college and where I met you. And I’m used to moving around. Really, I don’t mind. So, if you wanted to come back here, I wanted to be prepared.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>The idea of settling in Portland with Nick had never even occurred to Adalind. While she was aware of the fact that there were just as many Wesen in Oakland as there were in Portland, Oakland’s Wesen were not aware of her. In contrast, every last Bauerschwein, Eisbiber, and Mellifer in Portland… not to mention a bastard royal prince… knew of and sometimes even trembled at the merest utterance of the name </span><em><span>Schade</span></em><span>. Adalind liked living in a place where she could have anonymity, where she could be Detective Nick Burkhardt’s girlfriend and a law student without all of the connotations that came with also being a Hexenbiest of feared lineage. </span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“For the record, I would prefer to move </span><em><span>anywhere in the world </span></em><span>with you </span><em><span>besides </span></em><span>Portland. Or we can stay exactly where we are as far as I am concerned.” Sighing, Adalind admitted as she climbed out of Nick’s old Land Cruiser, “because of your research, though, you recognize the name Sean Renard as that of a Portland Police Captain.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Oh. And he’s here because…?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Nick tried to play his query off as casual, but Adalind could hear some unfamiliar emotions lurking underneath his feigned apathy. She just couldn’t tell if it was jealousy - of Sean’s rank in comparison to his… even if Sean was at least a decade older than Nick… or of someone of Sean’s rank having a role in her life, whatever that role may be - or if it was suspicion. Either way, it was a good thing that he had no idea of the Royal family and that, even if he did, as a human, they would have absolutely no impact on or meaning to him. “... because he’s an ally of my mother’s.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“You say that like we’re going into battle,” Nick scoffed, laughing. </span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Because that’s exactly what we’re doing,” she doused his amusement mid-chuckle. With Nick holding the bag with their change of clothes in it - Adalind’s mother would expect them to dress for dinner, and neither of them had wanted to make the drive in formal clothes, she joined him on the sidewalk after rounding the front of the car, taking his free hand with one of hers and giving it a squeeze. “My mom has also been sleeping with Sean off and on for years.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Nick seemed to relax at that additional bit of explanation… which was precisely the wrong reaction he should have had. “So, he’s like her boyfriend? You bring your boyfriend home for the holidays, so your mom needed to have her boyfriend over for Christmas dinner, too?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Catherine Schade does not have </span><em><span>boyfriends</span></em><span>,” Adalind whispered to him as they approached the house. Needing to wrap up their conversation before her mother answered the door </span><em><span>and </span></em><span>prepare Nick for what he was about to experience inside… at least as far as the relationship dynamics were concerned, she hurried to clarify, “she sleeps with men who have power, or wealth, or both. It’s more of a business transaction than anything else. And she expects me to conduct my life in a similar manner. When she found out that I’m dating someone… and that we’re serious enough for me to </span><em><span>bring him home for Christmas</span></em><span>, my guess is that Sean is here as both a reminder of </span><em><span>what</span></em><span> I’m supposed to want </span><em><span>and </span></em><span>a set-up.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>In horror, Nick turned to look at her. “Your mom is trying to pimp you out to her ex-fuck buddy?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Before Adalind could disabuse him of the idea that Catherine Schade would need to stop sleeping with a man in order to encourage him to pursue her daughter, her mother was ushering them into the small but lavish Victorian where Adalind had spent her childhood and where Catherine still lived. There was no welcoming, no greeting, just a sour, pinched frown and an appraising glance in Nick’s direction. Sensing nothing </span><em><span>other </span></em><span>about him, Catherine dismissed Nick before he could even hold out a hand and introduce himself, a hand that then went untouched. </span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Adalind, do come in and greet our guest,” her mother instructed. While Catherine tried to corral Adalind away from Nick and towards the sitting room, she tossed an order over her shoulder to Nick. “And Mr. Burkhardt….”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“It’s Detective, actually,” he corrected her mother. Adalind felt a little thrill go through her that, despite her mom’s imperious manner </span><em><span>and </span></em><span>what she believed to be their purpose there that day - for Nick to ask Catherine for her blessing to marry Adalind, he wasn’t intimidated. “Or you can just call me Nick.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>If anything, her mother turned her nose up even further at him. “... take those things,” Catherine nodded towards the bag he held, “upstairs to the guest room.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“How will I know…?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“The house will tell you,” her mom breezily said. To Adalind, the strange remark meant that the doors were spelled to only open if her mother willed them to; to Nick, it had to seem like her mom was... </span><em><span>eccentric</span></em><span>.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Unfortunately, that was the high point of their afternoon.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>After Adalind exchanged awkward and stiff hellos with Sean and Nick came back downstairs, sans duffle, her mother put on her </span><em><span>gracious hostess </span></em><span>hat… which was nearly as pointed and powerful as her actual witch’s hat. “Drinks, everyone?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Scotch for me,” Renard requested, sounding just slightly desperate for the alcoholic relief. “But you already knew that.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“I’ll take a beer, please, if you have one,” Nick asked politely. </span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“A beer,” Catherine mocked, laughing. “How… quaint.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Instead, she handed Nick a tumbler of what looked like Sean’s scotch, but, with her mother, Adalind knew that she couldn’t be sure… or too careful. Discreetly, she shook her head at Nick to indicate that he shouldn’t drink whatever it was in the glass. Although he held it on his knee after they sat down on the couch together - Adalind, not given an option either, with wine just like her mother, Nick took her advice and never even raised the crystal to his lips. Sean and her mom took the chairs opposite them, Nick and Adalind joined hands, and then the inquisition began. </span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“So, Mr. Burkhardt….”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Nick,” he tried again but to no effect.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“At least you’re German. That’s something, I guess,” Catherine sounded practically disgusted as she announced this. “Tell us about yourself, your family.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Well, I’m a R&amp;H detective in Oakland - that’s robbery and homicide as I’m sure the Captain,” Nick nodded towards Sean, “could tell you himself.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Jumping in because she knew that Nick would never sing his own praises </span><em><span>and </span></em><span>wanting to make it clear to her mom that, even if Catherine didn’t find Nick impressive, Adalind did, she boasted, “Nick made detective right after he turned 26 - one of the youngest in Oakland PD history.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“It has been a little while since I was on </span><em><span>that </span></em><span>side of the Bay, but I believe Oakland is closer to Berkeley than it is to Palo Alto,” Catherine mused. Although her mother sounded pleasant enough, Adalind knew where her mom’s comment was leading them, and it certainly wasn’t towards any kind of understanding between mother and daughter about the life Adalind had chosen and made for herself or between her mother and Nick regarding his intentions to propose. “So, you must be the reason why my daughter elected to attend Berkeley Law instead of Stanford Law, Mr. Burkhardt.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Unsure of why he was being condemned for Adalind’s schooling decisions, he looked over at her briefly with warriness floating in his dark, turbulent eyes. Addressing Catherine, though, he said, “Is that a bad thing? I mean, it’s </span><em><span>Berkeley</span></em><span>.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Which means that it is </span><em><span>tied </span></em><span>for the </span><em><span>ninth </span></em><span>best law school in the country. My daughter is brilliant. She is </span><em><span>special</span></em><span>. She deserves better than </span><em><span>ninth</span></em><span>; she deserved Stanford Law.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Well, considering the fact that I’m in love with her, that we live together, and I see all of the amazing things she does on a daily basis, I don’t think </span><em><span>you </span></em><span>need to tell </span><em><span>me </span></em><span>just how </span><em><span>brilliant </span></em><span>and </span><em><span>special </span></em><span>Adalind is.” Gone was the conciliatory Nick who had walked in her mother’s front door fifteen minutes earlier. In his place was the confident, sometimes stubborn, always passionate and supportive, and downright savvy Nick who Adalind had been so charmed by even the first time they met that she allowed him to give her a ticket despite the fact that she could have used her rusty but not completely dormant powers at the time to evade him, dissuade him, or even make him forget her and her speeding, silver Mercedes. “Out of curiosity, though, where does Stanford Law rank on this list of yours?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Second,” Catherine snapped, glaring at both Nick and Adalind. “Yale is first, of course.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Then why doesn’t Adalind deserve Yale, not Berkeley </span><em><span>or </span></em><span>Stanford?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“You know, Mother, some studies suggest that it is better to attend different schools for your undergraduate and graduate degrees.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Ignoring her, Catherine changed the subject. “Tell us about your family, Mr. Burkhardt. Your parents, siblings. Are they cops, too?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>If Nick picked up on the disdain Catherine felt for and showed towards his profession despite the fact that her sometimes lover and would-be </span><em><span>benefactor </span></em><span>for her daughter was also a cop, he didn’t react accordingly. “My parents both died in a car accident when I was twelve, and I’m an only child. As far as I am aware, I’m the first Burkhardt to become a </span><em><span>detective… </span></em><span>or to go to college, for that matter, though my Aunt Marie - she raised me after I lost my parents - has her Masters and was a librarian.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>In wary confusion, Adalind watched as Sean and her mother exchanged apprehensive glances - her mother’s more annoyed, while Sean’s seemed almost… eager? Before she could puzzle through their strange reactions, it was Sean scooting forward in his chair to pose the next question to Nick. “This Aunt Marie of yours, what’s her last name?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Oh, you wouldn’t know her,” Nick dismissed. But neither Catherine nor Renard were intent upon letting the inquiry go, both of them waiting impatiently for Nick to give them the information they sought. “We moved around a lot while I was growing up, but we never lived here. Before my parents died, Aunt Marie worked at various colleges and universities on the East Coast - we’re from New York, but I don’t think she’s even traveled through Portland before.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Her name,” Catherine demanded, gritting out those two words from between her teeth.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Nick exchanged another bewildered glance with Adalind… but, unfortunately, she couldn’t offer him any insight, because she was just as lost… before finally supplying, “Kessler. My Aunt’s name is Marie Kessler.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Her mother sucked in an aggrieved gasp, and Sean went rigid in his antique chair. “Alright, that’s enough,” Adalind decreed. Not only was she calling an end to their interrogation, but she also wanted to know what the hell was going on and what exactly she and Nick were entirely oblivious towards. </span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>But, rather than answer for her strange behavior, her mother shot up from her chair and distractedly offered, “I need to check on lunch.” </span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>After Catherine disappeared through the dining room and into the kitchen beyond it, Adalind watched on, irritated and confounded, as Sean also stood, though his actions were more reserved and sedate, far less emotional. “I should… check on Catherine. Excuse me.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Nick waited until they were alone before joking, “you said your family was different, not deranged.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Placing her wine glass on the coffee table, Adalind pushed herself to her feet. “Because they’re not… at least, not in the traditional sense of the word. But you’re right,” she acknowledged Nick’s judgement of her mother’s actions. Looking down at him still sitting on the couch, Adalind felt some of her frustration melt away, replaced by the warmth of contentment and the sparks of attraction she always felt when she thought about or saw him. “There is something irrational going on right now with my mom and Renard,” - something more than just a Hexenbiest bringing home a Kehrseite to meet the Wesen family - “and I’m going to find out exactly what it is.” And cut it off at the knees if she could.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Without anything more being said between them, Adalind retraced both her mother’s and Sean’s steps, almost surprised when the door to the kitchen gave and allowed her to open it, though it immediately slammed shut behind her. Adalind found her mother and Sean squaring off against each other across the long, wide kitchen island. As soon as she stepped into the room, however, they forgot their sudden animosity with each other and, united, turned that wrath onto her. “You brought a </span><em><span>Grimm </span></em><span>into my home,” Catherine spat in accusation, in disgust.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“What,” Adalind asked, blindsided by both the word Grimm in association with Nick but also by the very idea that her mom and Renard seemed to think Nick was one. Although she couldn’t actually see him through the walls, Adalind instinctively looked over her shoulder where Nick would in all likelihood still be sitting on her mother’s small sofa. “Nick’s not a…. Oh, come on! Give me a little credit here. I might not be practicing right now, but I think I would know if I was sleeping with” - dating, living with, completely and utterly in love with - “a Grimm!”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“He’s not actually a Grimm - yet,” Sean explained, his voice hushed as though he feared Nick could hear him through several very thick walls… not to mention a Hexenbiest’s spelled house. “My suspicion is that his powers have not been… activated, so to speak, but his Aunt, Marie Kessler? She is a notoriously effective and brutal Grimm.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Oh my god, Aunt Marie is a fifty-two year old woman who retired early and drives around the country with her Airstream trailer!”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Maybe it’s a different Marie Kessler,” Catherine suggested.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>It was Sean who asked Adalind, “have you actually met Burkhardt’s Aunt?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Well, no,” Adalind denied, suddenly annoyed by the fact that she hadn’t met Marie. Up until this moment, she appreciated the space Marie’s quirky lifestyle provided Nick and their relationship, but, now, she wished that she could definitively dispute her mother and Renard’s claims, making them eat their surely preposterous words. “Like I said, she’s retired and traveling. But Nick talks to her on the phone all the time. Hell, </span><em><span>I’ve </span></em><span>talked to her on the phone plenty of times, too. Besides, Nick and I have been together for years. Don’t you think at some point during our relationship he would have said something to make me suspicious or mentioned my last name to his Aunt who, if she was a Grimm, would certainly have recognized Schade because of you,” Adalind all but accused her mother, though Catherine beamed, apparently taking the remark as a compliment instead. “Trust me, Marie Kessler is not a Grimm, and Nick certainly isn’t a Grimm either - suppressed powers or not!”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“We need to know for sure,” Catherine announced, ignoring Adalind and reaching for her grimoire. “Let me just mix up a little spell….”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“No,” Adalind yelled, slamming a fist down onto the dark countertop in emphasis. “There will be no tests, no potions, nothing Wesen related. I’m sorry that the idea of me with a Kehrseite is so dismaying for you, Mother, that you need to invent this </span><em><span>ridiculous</span></em><span> conspiracy that Nick is a… a sleeper Grimm!... in order to make </span><em><span>my </span></em><span>relationship more palatable for you and your bastard prince!”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Catherine stopped in her actions mid-page turn in order to look up and stare at her daughter in absolute shock and disgust. “You actually think I would prefer a Grimm over a… oh!”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Is everything alright in here,” Nick asked tentatively, entering the kitchen and the fray it had become. Adalind wasn’t sure where to settle her gaze upon his arrival - the door which had let him in; her infuriated </span><em><span>and </span></em><span>infuriating</span> <span>mother; an intrigued looking Renard, which was worrisome beyond the present problem at hand; or the man she loved who, evidently… based upon the house’s reaction to him, wasn’t a man at all but was in fact, despite all of Adalind’s denials and dissents, a Grimm. There was simply no other explanation for why he had been granted access to the kitchen.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Her mom was the first to woge. “What the hell…?,” Nick started to ask. </span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>In that moment, Adalind was afraid she was going to lose him, and she couldn’t even sympathize with what he was going through, because woging, and Hexenbiests, and secrets weren’t just her past; they were her legacy, her inheritance, her destiny, and she had done nothing to prepare Nick for them. He didn’t pull away from her when she approached him, but his eyes were wide with trepidation and disbelief, his body tense and ready for flight, and his too rapid breathing was choppy. “We need to go. Now!”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“But our things,” he started to object.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Adalind quickly cut him off. “Leave them.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>For the first time since she approached him, Nick tore his gaze away from her mother and looked at Adalind. “There’s a ring. I bought you a ring. It’s upstairs. I brought it with us… just in case.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“If you still want to marry me when all of this is over, after I’ve… explained, then my answer will be yes, Nick. Ring or no ring. It’ll always be yes. So, please,” she glanced over her shoulder to see that Sean had now woged, too, and both he and her mom were slowly advancing towards them. “You need to leave. Now. Run!”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“But you?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“I’ll be fine,” Adalind promised him before woging, shoving him backwards with her powers, and then slamming and locking the door behind her. </span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Pivoting to face her mom and Renard, Adalind was already attacking them before they realized that she was using her powers. Perhaps they weren’t expecting her to tap into her Hexenbiest in order to save Nick and get him away from them - believing her need to protect her secret greater than her love for him, but, whatever the reason, Adalind was able to catch them by surprise. That edge… plus, why she now felt more raw strength and ability after years of not casting a single spell or mixing even the simplest of potions, she could only attribute it to living with and loving a Grimm… allowed Adalind to get the upper hand. She managed to temporarily trap her mother underneath the cast iron stove, and she dazed Sean with enough blows to the head - random objects from the kitchen thrown at and colliding with his woged face - to slow him down and then used the house’s wards against him, keeping him locked in the kitchen with her mother while she escaped out of the front.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Nick had the car running and her door open, waiting and ready for her. As they drove away, Adalind noticed their bag tossed on the floor beneath her feet. Eyes wide with realization - Nick had gone back upstairs for the ring, </span><em><span>her ring</span></em><span>, despite everything he had witnessed and all of the fear he had heard in her voice, she twisted in her seat to find him watching her more than the road. She should have been unnerved by his distraction, but, instead, she realized that she had never felt safer. Nick might not know exactly what he had just seen her do, but he knew it defied any and all logical, </span><em><span>human</span></em><span> explanations, and he was still with her; he still wanted to propose to her. </span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Or… he just didn’t want to be out all of that money.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Banishing that doubt from her mind, Adalind reached for Nick’s phone which was tossed haphazardly in the Land Cruiser’s center console. Handing it to him, she instructed. “Call your Aunt.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Don’t you think we should talk about what happened back there first?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Calling Marie </span><em><span>is </span></em><span>talking about it,” Adalind contradicted him. When he still didn’t make a move to dial the number that, now that she thought about it, changed </span><em><span>far too often </span></em><span>for a retired librarian, Adalind closed her eyes in exhausted defeat, sighed, and then begged, “please, Nick?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Without further argument, he did as she asked. Marie picked up after just two rings. She sounded glad to be hearing from her nephew - at ease and happy… wherever she was at that moment. “Merry Christmas, Sweethea…”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Interrupting Nick’s Aunt and not allowing him to say anything either, Adalind immediately launched into the point of their phone call. “My name is Adalind </span><em><span>Schade</span></em><span>, Marie. My mother is </span><em><span>Catherine Schade</span></em><span>, and we just left her house where we were supposed to have lunch with her and </span><em><span>Sean Renard</span></em><span>.” Marie gasped but didn’t actually say anything, allowing Adalind to tell her whole, entire story. “I never wanted Nick to find out about </span><em><span>me, </span></em><span>about my mom, about any of it. I left that life behind when I left Portland nearly seven years ago. But he insisted, and I had no idea that he is… that you are….”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Grimms,” Marie finished for her. The whole time she talked, Adalind had stared out of the windshield at the nothing that was the passing scenery. But, as soon as Nick’s Aunt said that fateful word, confirming what Adalind already learned to be true that afternoon but also changing the entire trajectory of all of their lives, she glanced up and over at Nick… who was watching her as much as he could while driving. “And you are a Hexenbiest.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“I am,” Adalind confirmed, though Marie did not need the confirmation; Nick did. </span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Speaking for the first time, Nick said, “I don’t know what either of you are even saying right now. All I know is that I went into that… </span><em><span>strange</span></em><span> house preparing to propose, and I still plan on proposing no matter what my mind thinks it just saw back there.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“You think that our faces rippling into rotting corpses was because of the house,” Adalind questioned incredulously.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Do you have a better explanation,” Nick wanted to know. “Your mom did say that the house would </span><em><span>speak </span></em><span>to me… or something crazy like that. Maybe it made me see things as well?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“The house probably had wards, but what you witnessed from your girlfriend, her mother, and… Mr. Renard is something called woging. The world is not as simple as you and everyone else in it have been led to believe, Nick,” Marie took over the conversation. She spoke gently yet pointedly, trying to provide Nick with a succinct yet believable account of the unbelievable. </span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“There are three types of people: those who are completely human. We call them Kehrsiete. Then, there are Wesen. These are human beings with… more. Think of the stories you were told as a child about other humanoid creatures: werewolves and witches… only we call them Blutbads and Hexenbiests, and there are hundreds of different species. Normally, humans… Kehrseite… cannot see the other, the </span><em><span>more, </span></em><span>parts of them. And then there are Grimms: those who stand between the two worlds - human and Wesen - and try to balance both of them.” Adalind wanted to laugh at Marie’s description of Grimms. She wanted to contradict her and challenge the idealized view, but she knew that moral theorizing would need to wait until after Nick stopped looking at his phone and at her like she and his Aunt were speaking Klingon rather than English sprinkled in with a little German when necessary. “You are a Grimm… just like I am a Grimm, your mother, our father, and every other generation of Kesslers before us.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Come on, Aunt Marie! A haunted house makes more sense than this….” Nick paused, regathered himself, and then started arguing once more. “What you’re talking about are fairy tales.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“There’s nothing fictional about this life of ours, Sweetheart. I wish there was, and I wish that it had never touched you. But it has now, and I was foolish to hope that it never would. I know what I am saying sounds made up, maybe even insane, but I promise you, Nick, it’s very real. Between Adalind’s powers and all of the knowledge I’ve gathered over the years - firsthand accounts, books, diaries, weapons, we’ll be able to make you see </span><em><span>and </span></em><span>understand.” Changing course without warning, Marie demanded to know, “where are you right now? What are you going to do when we hang up?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“I’m going to pull over the car at the first park we see and propose to Adalind </span><em><span>without </span></em><span>her mother’s blessing… like I should have done in the first place. And then I’m getting us the hell out of Portland, and we’re going home. Together. Where we belong.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“You can’t do that,” Marie crisply argued with him.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“If I don’t need Catherine Schade’s permission to marry her daughter, I certainly do not need yours either.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Oh, I don’t care about that,” Nick’s Aunt dismissed. Surprised, Adalind couldn’t help but emit a small gasp, which was obviously heard over the speaker phone, because Marie added, “well, I mean, I </span><em><span>care</span></em><span>, but we have bigger problems right now than you wanting to marry a Hexenbiest. Plus, it could always be worse. She could be a Kehrsiete.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Sounding impatient, Nick wanted to know, “then what exactly are you objecting to?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“You can’t go home.” When he went to argue with his Aunt, Marie insisted, “that’s the first place they’ll look for you, and you’re not ready. I suspect the only reasons you made it out of Catherine Schade’s house alive is because you shocked the hell out of her and the half Zauberbiest, and Adalind fought them off long enough for you two to escape. But they’ll be coming for you now, and, this time, they’ll be both prepared and not alone.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Realizing that Nick had reached his mental full capacity, Adalind picked up the conversational thread for him. “If not back home to Oakland, where do you suggest that we go, Marie? Should we come to you… wherever you are right now?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>Nick’s Aunt considered the question for several moments before responding, “you should stay in Portland - find some obscure place to hide out. They’ll expect you to run; they’ll never expect you to stay and fight. Plus, I can be there in a matter of hours. I have some contacts in Portland, and it’s your home turf, Adalind. You might not be Portland’s Wesen community’s favorite person in the world, but you’re certainly not your mother </span><em><span>or </span></em><span>Sean Renard.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” she mused out loud, slowly seeing the wisdom in Marie’s advice.</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Exactly.” In the background, she heard a car door slam. “Listen, I’m leaving now. I’ll text you once I reach the outskirts of Portland, and you can send me the address of where you’re laying low for now, though we’ll want to move around a lot until we’re ready to make a stand.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Thanks, Marie,” Adalind offered Nick’s Aunt sincerely. “We’ll see you in a few hours.”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>She reached out to end the call, but Nick’s voice stopped her. “Aunt Marie?”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>“Everything is going to be alright, Sweetheart - different, and sometimes horrible, definitely tragic at times, but other times it’ll be pretty amazing as well… but alright. And Nick, Adalind,” Marie paused. She seemed to be waiting for something… perhaps just to emphasize and give proper weight to what she was about to say. “Congratulations on your engagement. A Grimm and a Hexenbiest? It’s going to be one hell of a ride!”</span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>After Marie hung up, Adalind found herself reaching down to the floorboards and picking up their duffle. At Nick’s nod, she unzipped the bag and riffled through it until she found the small, velvet square inside. Removing the box, she opened it with a pop and a crack, displaying a simple yet stunning ring - not just because of the diamond but also and more importantly because of the meaning it held for them: Adalind and Nick, lawyer and cop, and now Hexenbiest and Grimm. At Nick’s nod, she slipped the platinum band from its slot, sliding it slowly yet with finality down her left, ring finger. The words didn’t need to be said, for, in his own way, Nick had already proposed, and Adalind had already accepted, but she found herself whispering, “yes,” anyway. </span><span><br/></span><span><br/></span><span>In the end, Adalind didn’t actually take Nick home with her for the holidays to meet her family, because Catherine Schade wasn’t her family, and Portland wasn’t her home. Her family was Nick Burkhardt: man, detective, Grimm. And now engaged to him and soon to be married, he always would be Adalind’s home, too.</span></p>
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